Sanguine Insanity
by SageoWind218
Summary: Spoilers. Silent Hill 4: Henry Townshend's thoughts on his situation of being stuck in Room 302.


Oh, God, what am I getting myself into...?

Silent Hill has been a recent interest of mine since Silent Hill 4: The Room came out. I didn't really know much about the series until Tip & Tricks® did a section about Megaman X: Command Mission along with Final Fantasy and StarOcean. With it was a section for the latest establishment of the Silent Hill series. I was curious, having seen it on **G4TV** and I liked the graphics and its horror. But I never really knew about it... So, I flipped to the section, not a care in the world...

When I caught sight of Henry Townshend... who desperately needs a hug, much like James, every now and then.

Since then, I've been researching all the games and found a very well thought-up story in the midst of the four games. Though it still confuses me... Before I really got into it, however, I did a short story dealing with what I thought Henry was thinking about his new predicament. It was also then that I didn't have much sympathy for Eileen.

So, excuse the bashing. I like Eileen now that I have some type of information about the game... I even like the thought of her and Henry as a couple! It's just how I viewed her at the time I wrote it. Sorry...

My cousin motivated me to revise and post this story up. Hopefully, its halfway correct...

If not correct, constructive criticism and helpful hints are welcome. This would enable me to go back and change things as well as tell me more of what happened.

If there is any warning, it's spoiler. S P O I L E R ! ... Don't you just love it?

Of course, Konami owns Henry, Eileen, the "Man in the Coat"... basically the entire thing. I own nothing. Maybe the title and the plot of the story (if there is a plot...), if that much, but nothing else.

This is in Henry point-of-view. I have no idea how Henry writes down his thoughts, so it's in my style. For some reason, I can see Henry going on about nothing, like I do.

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"Sanguine Insanity"

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It just appeared all of a sudden...

I don't know what it is, or what it wants, but it's there... just... staying there... unfulfilled. The crevice beside the broken mirror seems... less than ornate. Especially considering the fact how much chaotic wonder is beyond the entrance to so many traumas. Blood... death... answers... questions... they're all secreting their presence from me quite sloppily, if you ask my opinion. I can see it everywhere I look while I tread through whatever... purgatory it wants me to go though. Prison walls that once anguished orphans beyond the rusted doors of seclusion... Apartment corridors doused with the blood of unknown victims... and a forest that leads to nowhere... yet everywhere all at the same time. I can't figure out if it's a test on my sane... or somewhat sane mind... or just a nightmare that leave long enough for me to wake up in my old apartment room with no curses, no decayed corpses trying to kill me with their ferocity, and Eileen still a passing face in the hallways. I just wonder what it would be like... if I was back to the old room I became so acquainted to so easily. I was happy... living my life the way _I _wanted to. Nothing was trying to stop or burden me with my past, and I was just fine with that...

But... now... I'm beginning to question the state of my living quarters...

It's silent, as if death rolled in and cut off any life source present, devouring the light which consumed the room in the daytime. Sometimes, I might hear a scream of pure terror every once in a while coming from the hole beside the fractured mirror that seemed to hold so many enigmas as the faces of past residents try to breach the barrier between the living and the dead. And I, strangely enough, am just with that.

Then, you have the impending grayness that just colors the room so... _enthusiastically. _I swear, the longer I stare at the ashen hue, I think I'll go psychotic. I have to sleep in this dank tint of color and after glaring at it for awhile... it doesn't go away. Just like that fissure that just wants to make my life a _living misery_. It just finds such _lovely _things to torture me with... like its manipulated version of St. Jerome's Hospital... As if I hadn't seen enough death already... that... **_thing_** decides its going to send me to a haunted bloodied, deforming... Sanitarium! Of _all _the places this force of evil could have sent me to... it sends me to a place of both casualty... and miracles. The miracles of life are embedded in the infirmaries... but, obviously, the "Conjurer" just wants me to see the darkness of the joyous marvels that take place in such a building... Oh, no, I just can't have a _little_ cheer in my life!

He despises the light... and now 'his little world' decides it's going to curse my apartment! I can't escape from it! The scarlet vision that meets me whenever I walk into an infected area cuts me into pieces, along with worsening my already mind-splitting headache. Then, much to my dislike, I have to go through the droning process of a cleansing ritual... which has become more of a ghoulish routine. The 'ritual-a.k.a.-routine' varies from a Holy Candle burning... or using Saint Medallions... which despite which ever one you use, the curse comes back with a vengeance that should rarely be trifled with. ...My life sucks, that's just the only good way to put it.

And, then... on top of all that... there's saving the damsel in distress...

Eileen Galvin... just doesn't even know the word 'fight.' She just swings her purse and gets kidnapped and cursed and all that other good stuff. And who's the only one who can save her? ... Me. Just me. ... No one else is capable of killing the corpse creatures that are hell-bent of killing all living things... expect me. Isn't that ironic? The one who loathes the Nightmare Realm with such a purple passion and wants nothing more than to see it burn like the Hell it is... is the only one who is doing anything about it. Like I said, isn't that ironic? Eileen, whenever she's coherent enough to speak to me, tells me that I have a strong will that rivals such forces like the one I am currently trapped in and that it goes well with my reclusiveness. And, everyday, it's the same thing; go into the hole, find whatever the Realm wants me to find, and wake up anonymously back in my apartment... not in the hole... Don't I have such a _fascinating _life...? In fact, I could just _die _at how wonderful it is! ... Yeah, I just enjoy the thrill of being chased down by ghosts and other... demons... trying to feast on my _guts_ (if that's their objective other than kill me) as they swing their arms so _elegantly_. Yep... that's my life as it is now. Aren't I lucky? Yea, I'm the luckiest guy on... um, Earth? Am I on Earth...? I don't even _know _if I'm even on Earth anymore, let alone in my own universe. Maybe I'm in another dimension... ah, who cares... as of right now, I am officially considering myself... lost... and in a state of stupidity. And believe me... my hope and sanity is dimming like the warm, welcoming light that used to fill the room... before my Hell was brought upon me. Before, the content feeling of being curled up on my couch while reading the latest suspense novel was all I ever needed... now... the thought that maybe I could go back to that simple, yet comforting life doesn't calm my nerves anymore. But, the fact I can't even find a _book _in this place- that is except for supposedly 'Holy Scriptures' and horribly written memos and letters from superintendents and dead people- might be half the cause of the problem. But, all seems to be in vain, no matter how much I tell myself 'don't go insane, don't go insane.'

I can't help but wonder, however, how that man ever 'conjured'- and I use that term loosely- up those creatures so... **_creatively_**...

The shredded, ashen skin forming out gnarled hands of blood and death, reaping out in the air in order to slit my own skin, was something like a routine now, also. The assorted un-dead crept around as if they were bound to the walls of crimson and floors of human corpses that lay out as if there was a great war fought there. The hanging bodies and bloodied beds and oozing walls don't help the uncomely scene either, just like Eileen's screams every time one or the other decides to make itself known. But... the _stupidity _of these _things_ is astounding by far. They just waltz around as if I don't hold a weapon and limply thrash. Well, at least at first... they did. And, perplexing as the next statement may be, I feel kind of guilty when I fight back and step on their dead- or is un-dead, but dead, like re-dead? - carcasses.

But, it's presence and control is decreasing, and I'm losing sight of what I'm supposed to do. Sometimes I _want _to forget that I'm a one-man army going against an empire with power beyond mankind's imagination. I want to remember what it was like to laugh without a solemn weight at the pit of my stomach... I want to go home... I want to see Eileen go down the hallway and nod to me, giving one of her rare smiles. I want to see Richard as just a living person again and not a phantasm who longs for my death with the swing of his pipe. I want to see Cynthia again, as nothing more than a stranger going down the stone and cement steps of the subway, minding her own business. _I want to go home..._ but he won't let me leave my prison cell of ash white.

"He who is the Receiver of Wisdom..."

Am I destined for something more than what I was used to, much like 'Scriptures' say, or am I, Henry Townshend, fated to die in the Nightmare that I am used to screaming inside of? 

Either way, he's going to kill me and Eileen if I don't do something...

...Still, there is that emotion that tugs at my heart when my weapon connects with the mutilated flesh of his creations. They wail in pain, and then they wail in pain some more. Sometimes I think that maybe it's _best _to let them 'live' in peace. Maybe not going into that infernal vorago will eventually give them some sort of... concocted sign that I'm never going back into the world they all 'live' and reside in.

One can dream, can't they?

Curiosity killed the cat... now; it wants to destroy it along with myself. That's the price I pay for living in the quaint town of Ashfield, which neighbors the 'paranormal' Silent Hill. South Ashfield Heights was as close as a _home _I could find, but now, as I am finding out, it's just bitter and sweetly disguised and it is showing its true form. And, thus, I see what the scary movies that they show in theaters and on television (if I could just get mine to _work_) are trying to say; there is no fear than fear itself... other than a man-in-a-dark-blue-coat-wielding-two-guns-chasing-you-around-his-little-psychotic-fantasy-of-how-the-world-_should-_be. ... Okay, I take that back. How can there be 'no fear' when its evident everywhere? How can there be nothing to fear _except_ fear? _Is _there such a thing as _fear_?

I'm being stupid now... of **_course_** there is such thing as fear! I'm being shown that there is in the hole. There _is _a fear to be scared of and there are monsters creeping inside the black velvet of the shadows that haunt the room, hidden by dim lighting, just waiting to pounce on their new victims. Also, I figured out where monsters come from; they don't come from your closet (though that little kid'' shadow could count...) or from under you bed... they come from a man who slaughtered his own neck with a _spoon. _If he didn't chase me so much, I would point my finger at him while laughing at his stupid means of suicide ... then, I would probably be shot dead right there...

_"Ha-ha... you're an orphan who-killed-yourself-with-a-ssspppooonnn!" _

_"Why, you son-of-a-!" _

_BANG! _

_And then, in slow motion, with the damsel known as Eileen Galvin, the 'Mother Reborn,' screaming at the top of her lungs in shock and terror, our hero falls dead... because he was **stupid** enough to **mock the enemy! **_

... Um...

... I actually think I just chuckled at that mental schizophrenic moment.

Ugh...

I'm tired of this. I'm sick of seeing sanguine drip from the walls as if it's nothing more than a _decoration piece_. I never want to see lifeless bodies, sickening sights of zombie dogs and patients, dirty-looking Siamese twins with overly-large arms, and whatever whatnot that I'm forgetting that crawls so hellishly inside that confounded Realm that just decides it wants _me _as its new victim! After seeing everything over and over again, such as death practically every time I stop _foot_ outside the tunnel from my room into the Purgatory. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, throwing my limbs everywhere, hitting anything in my way, and just basically ending my frustration... once and for all. Eileen doesn't understand why I have this... disgust evident on my face every time I'm present in the realm of nightmares... But that's just because all conception I had to perceive earlier than most who are found in that place was just revealing to me a truth; that I'm just as insane as the dimension of incubuses I despise with every breath I take in.

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End

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... I can't believe I laughed while re-typing this... review!


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